


Perfect

by flashofthefuse, PhryneFicathon



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 12:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon
Summary: At a desperate time, Hugh Collins recalls his very best day.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarahtoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/gifts).



> I'd like to thank whoever provided my prompts. I didn't expect to choose this one when I first got them but in the end I really like where it took me. I hope you do too!
> 
> Prompt: [Perfect by Ed Sheeran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDDMYw_IZnE)

**Prologue**

**________________**

Hugh Collins knew he wasn’t perfect.

He’d made mistakes. He was the first to acknowledge that, but he had improved and was improving still. He tried to be a good man and the best husband he knew how to be—but he could be better. 

He would be better. 

If they got through this.

And, they would get through this.

They had to.

Hugh bent double in his seat, placed his head in his hands. He thought he should pray or maybe beg. 

To God or anyone else that might be listening. 

He didn’t know what else to do. 

He closed his eyes. He could still remember it all like it was yesterday.

 

**Eighteen Months Earlier**

______________________

_‘I don’t deserve this’_. 

He was a bundle of nervous energy and excitement. So overwrought he feared he might vomit—right there before the sacred altar—in front of his friends and Father O’Leary.

And then she was there, coming to him by her own choice, looking more beautiful than should be allowed. Just the sight of her calmed him. She always made everything all right. She made everything perfect.

_An angel_ , he thought. Just as he had when he’d first laid eyes on her. A girl so beautiful and sweet she seemed too good for this world.

He’d been feeling slightly overwhelmed that day. He hadn’t attended many suspicious deaths before and he wasn’t used to being in such grand surroundings, much less having to assert any authority in them. He’d plucked up his courage and tried to stand tall. The inspector was counting on him and he needed to be up to the task. 

How hard could it be, really? His only job was to maintain control. To keep the crime scene clear and people out of the inspector’s way so that he could do his job and catch a murderer.

And then he’d seen her. The entire room seemed to glow from the light she emitted. Even in that grey maid’s uniform, with her head demurely bowed, she outshone her opulent surroundings. She’d robbed him of breath (and possibly his good sense too). 

He’d left his post and run to her aid over a trifle but when she’d lifted her eyes to his—just for a moment—and given him the smallest of smiles and a nod of thanks, he’d thought his heart might burst with pride.

He’d been so entranced, so stupefied, he’d almost missed the other one as she slipped past. And then he’d handled it badly, been too trusting. Too accommodating. 

_Gullible_ , the inspector had called him. 

He hadn’t yelled, the inspector rarely yelled, but he’d given Hugh _the look._ Hugh dreaded _the look._ It conveyed a sense of deep disappointment. He’d have preferred shouting.

Later, the inspector had explained. There were people, he said, that would use whatever means necessary to take advantage, especially among the well-to-do. 

Wealthy people were used to having their own way. They often thought themselves more important than anything else, including the law. They treated the law, and those entrusted to uphold it, much as they would their own household staff.

Hugh needed to learn how to deal with such people as this Miss Fisher. He was sure to cross paths with others like her. There was no need to be impolite, but one must be firm.

Hugh had tried to argue that the woman had been in need but the inspector reasoned, and rightfully so, that a home so large and grand would have an additional lavatory. Most likely one specifically designated for guests, as he doubted it was common to send any and all visitors into the owner’s private en suite.

He’d also said that one could assume any visitor admitted to the house on a day when the patriarch lay dead on the bathroom floor would be a close family friend, would likely have visited before, and so would have known the home’s layout. 

Taking all that into consideration, Inspector Robinson said, it was clear the woman had taken advantage of Hugh’s good nature and naiveté simply to satisfy her own morbid curiosity.

That ability to immediately size up of a situation and make such quick deductions seemed to come naturally to the inspector. Hugh didn’t have as agile a mind. The inspector had slapped him on the back that day and said he’d get there but he’d felt a right fool.

Still, he’d been grateful. Grateful to have a boss like Inspector Robinson. A boss that took the time to educate the men that worked under him. 

And he was grateful for that day as a whole, despite its embarrassments, because that was when it had all begun. His life, it seemed, began that day.

Even after his reprimand the memory of her had been a balm on his soul. Her golden hair, shining eyes and that smile that had, in one moment, stolen his heart. 

He’d come to learn that as lovely as she was, she was equally kind and smart, funny and, to his good fortune, fearless.

If she hadn’t been the braver of them, and found the courage he hadn’t been able to muster, they would never have gone to that dance and he might have missed his chance with her.

But she had asked and they had gone out. That night, and many nights after. She was the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the world.His Dottie.

He’d ignored the obstacles. The religious differences and his mother’s disapproval. What had seemed a daunting prospect in the beginning was, in the end, no match for the joy he felt when Dot was by his side. She was the light in his days. His dream come to life. She was perfect.

But life wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t until later that he fully realized what it meant to love a flesh and blood woman. Especially one as extraordinary as Dorothy Williams.

That bravery of hers, that fearlessness and independence he’d so appreciated when it benefitted him, could also manifest as a stubbornness that worked against him.

His admiration of her courage fought his need to keep her safe. Her self-reliance warred with his desire to be needed.

He’d been raised to believe a man’s job was to provide for his wife and that a wife’s place, and pleasure, was found in maintaining a loving and welcoming home for her husband.

But Dot had seen things differently. She’d had a taste of life as a modern woman and didn’t want to give it up. 

That had been his first obstacle, but there’d been other as well. Issues he’d made light of that came back to loom over them. His mother’s disapproval of his choice in a bride being the largest of them.

He should have confided in Dottie right away but they’d made so many plans and he hated to disappoint her. 

He’d come to terms with her need to be a modern, working woman, but he’d still hoped to provide for her. He still considered that his duty. He’d decided he could solve any problems on his own. He wouldn’t concern her with his struggles. Financial or otherwise.

That had been his first mistake, but there’d been others. Some that should have been fatal but she’d let him off the hook in the end. She’d forgiven him. Too easily, if you asked him, but that was her way. He vowed to never let her down again.

When she’d wanted to bring the wedding forward, he’d argued, at first, that it wouldn’t be what she’d dreamt of, worried that one day she’d regret her haste.

He should have known better. Dottie knew her own mind. He could still remember her exact words.

_‘I love you, Hugh and I want you’_

That was all he’d needed to hear. After that, he knew he’d move heaven and earth to make it happen.

In the end it hadn’t been what they’d talked of. Her father did not give her away. Neither of their mothers were present to weep for joy (or grief). But they’d had all the family they needed around them and, in his mind, no wedding ceremony had ever been more perfect. 

And no bride more beautiful.

The entire night still seemed something out of a storybook. Their friends had all turned out to support them and wish them well. And then there’d been Dot, in that dress, more lovely than any princess, beaming at him as she made her way down the aisle. What else could any man ever hope for?

That alone would have been enough but their friends had more in store for them. Had he not been informed otherwise, Hugh would have credited Miss Fisher alone. Who else would have been able to pull off such a surprise on such short notice? 

As they’d been driven away from the church, Bert and Cec had revealed a surprise, assuming of course, that the new couple had already been made aware. 

“A week?” Hugh said, shocked to his core.

“You didn’t know? Robinson’s given you leave for four days,” Bert replied. “We’re takin’ ya to your little love nest as we speak.”

“But we don’t have any luggage,” Dot said.

They’d thought they were being driven back to Miss Fisher’s for a celebration and then—Hugh assumed—to spend the night but, to be honest, he hadn’t let himself think that far.

“Your bags are in the boot. All taken care of,” Bert said.

“And loads of food too,” put in Cec, “thanks to Mr. Butler.”

“Where are we going?” Hugh asked.

“That’s on your boss,” Bert replied.

“Inspector Robinson?” 

Or, Jack, as Hugh recalled the man insisting he call him earlier that day.

They were in the back of the church. Hugh had fumbled with his tie, his hands shaking so badly he was making a mess of it. Inspector Robinson had come to his aid. 

“Nervous, Collins?” He’d said, knotting the tie neatly at Hugh’s throat and pinning a flower to his lapel.

“Terribly, sir. It’s all happening so fast.”

“She’s the one for you, isn’t she?”

“I can’t imagine anyone more perfect.”

“No point in waiting then, is there?”

“I suppose not, sir.”

“How about you call me Jack? Maybe not around the station, but it seems appropriate here, don’t you think?”

Hugh had just nodded. Unable to actually utter the name aloud just yet. 

“It occurred to me, Collins, that you’ve been without a father for some time now. I don’t mean to be presumptuous but I have a bit more experience than I imagine you do—having been married before—so if there’s anything you’d like to ask me, anything at all. Now’s the time.”

Hugh had blushed to the tips of his ears but he knew a good opportunity when he saw one.

“There is one thing, sir—er—I mean, Jack,” he stammered.

“What’s that?”

“Well. It’s about the wedding night,” he said, staring intently at this shoes.

“I’m guessing you’ve never been with a woman before?” There was no judgment in his tone.

“No, sir. Not in that way. And I know Dottie has never—well, I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“That attitude is a good place to start. Considering her and her feelings will go a long way. Some of it will come naturally but my best piece of advice would be to go slowly and take your cues from her. Be sure to ask her what she wants and listen to her answers.”

“Ask her? To her face? I couldn’t possibly!”

“Of course you can. You must! How else will you know what she needs?”

“Well, I just thought...”

“You just thought that what is good for you would be good for her? Too many men make that mistake. That one, and thinking that women can’t feel a pleasure equal to that of a mans.” 

Hugh’s embarrassment at this point knew no bounds. The very idea of discussing such things with Dottie was incomprehensible. She’d be horrified to know he even had such thoughts.

“But, Dottie is a good Catholic,” he said.

“Yes. And she’s likely been raised to think that relations between a husband and wife are strictly for procreation, but keep in mind, Hugh, that she’s been living with Miss Fisher for some time now.”

“Miss Fisher, sir?”

“Miss Fisher is a firm advocate for enjoying the sensual pleasures in life. I think it’s fair to assume she’s shared some of her philosophies with Miss Williams.”

Hugh blanched. He was aware of Miss Fisher’s frequent late night visitors and he’d not forgotten that book she’d given him—there’d been a whole lot more in there than a chapter on kissing—but he was a little surprised to hear the inspector speak so casually about it all. 

It had always confused him—the inspector and Miss Fisher. 

He never could make out just what they were to each other but he thought that the inspector cared for Miss Fisher. Quite a lot, and he’d have expected him to be more upset when discussing the other men in her life. 

But that night Hugh had other, more pressing, concerns.

“You think Miss Fisher has talked to Dottie about...”

“Sexual relations? Don’t look so frightened,” Jack laughed, “she couldn’t be in better hands. Now listen, Hugh. You’ll be fine. You and Miss Williams love each other and you will learn together. But don’t be afraid to talk to your bride and to listen to her. Really listen, without judgement. That’s the key.”

They had learned together. Beginning that very night. Due, in part, to Jack’s good advice and his kind gesture. 

The wedding plans had come together so fast that there’d been no time to think about what would happen after the ceremony. Even if Hugh had had the money for a honeymoon, he neither had the time to plan one, nor could he get away from work.

Apparently, Miss Fisher wanted to make arrangements for the newlyweds to spend their first night at a fancy hotel and had asked Inspector Robinson to allow Hugh a few extra hours in the morning before he’d be required to report in at the station.

The Inspector had done one better. He’d got Hugh four days off from work and he’d called in a favor to arrange the use of a childhood friend’s fishing cottage.

Cec had heard the entire exchange and related it to his passengers as they drove.

“The extra days are wonderful, but a fishing cottage, Jack?” Miss Fisher had said, screwing up her nose. “That sounds perfectly awful.”

“I’m not suggesting we send them off to some hovel,” Inspector Robinson argued. “The cottage is sound and my friend’s wife has taken considerable care with it. She often accompanies her husband and likes to be comfortable.”

“There’s comfortable and then there’s luxury. At the Windsor they’ll have their own staff. They’ll be pampered every moment and the beds are heavenly.”

“I’ve no doubt, but this is Hugh and Dot we’re talking about. They’ll be overwhelmed enough to find themselves alone together for the first time. Throw in unfamiliar and overly opulent surroundings—a butler to command, and silk sheets—and they’ll be paralyzed.”

“But—”

“She’s not you, Phryne. Dot will want to take care of her new husband on her own. And Hugh would be a fish out of water at the Windsor.”

After that Miss Fisher had agreed but she’d insisted that meals be prepared and enough provisions laid in that Dot wouldn’t have to lift one more finger than she desired to.

After over an hour on the road they’d turned down a dirt path. Ten minutes later, just as they’d begun to fear they’d made a mistake somewhere along the route the headlamps fell on the sweetest little cottage Hugh had ever seen. Dotty woke, raising her head from his shoulder and gasped with pleasure.

“Oh, Hugh! Have you ever seen anything quite so idyllic?”

“No, Dottie. It’s perfect,” he said, watching her face glow with happiness.

The interior was as delightful as the exterior. Bert and Cec unloaded the car while Hugh set a fire in the grate and before he knew it he was alone with his wife.

_Wife_. How could one little word be so wonderful and terrifying at the same time?

Dot bustled about the little kitchen making up cold sandwiches and tea. Their usual ease with each other was nowhere to be found and they struggled to interrupt the silence as they ate.

Hugh helped with the clean up. Dot tried to shoo him away but he wanted to get their new union off to a good start. To show her that he didn’t believe her place was to serve him and that he wanted them to be partners going forward. 

The busy work of washing and drying loosened their tongues a bit but once the kitchen was set to rights the awkwardness returned.

She turned to him.

“Shall we go to bed?” She asked.

His heart pounded in his chest. He forced himself to look at her. Really look at her.

She stood ramrod straight, her feet planted a foot apart, shoulders square. Her face was determined and her chin jutted ever so slightly forward. 

He smiled to realize just how well he’d come to know her. She was afraid, but pushing through to face it head on. Admirable, perhaps, but not how he wanted her to come to his bed for the first time. 

Inspector Robinson’s words of advice rang in his ears: _‘Listen to her. Really listen’._

“It’s early yet,” he said easily. “What do you say we get the lay of the land. There’s a nearly full moon out tonight. Would you like to go see the lake?”

She blinked at him, then let out a relieved breath.

They didn’t go far at first, staying within the circle of light streaming through the open kitchen door. 

The lake was near, the moon reflecting off its glassy surface. 

“Look Hugh, I think there’s a bit of sand at the shoreline. We have our own beach!”

“I don’t know that we’ll be doing much swimming, Dottie. The water is likely cold this time of year.”

They decided to walk down to take a look anyway, maybe dip a toe in. Hugh found a torch in the cottage and they removed their shoes and stockings, leaving them just inside the back door. 

The ground sloped away from the house, the grass was soft and warm beneath their feet. They crossed the beach—no more than a small strip of sand which shifted cooly between their toes—and stood for a moment at the water’s edge. 

Hugh rolled his trousers up to his knees and reached for Dottie’s hand.

“Shall we test it out?” He asked. She looked up at him, her eyes shining.

“Just a little.”

She laughed as the water hit her feet and squeezed his hand.

It was cold, but not freezing. Another day, when the weather proved unseasonably warm, they dared to venture in past their ankles, but for tonight this was far enough. 

They retreated to the shore, wiping any sand that clung to their feet onto the grass as they moved toward the house. The night sounds of frogs and nocturnal insects filled the air around them. An owl called. It was a quiet, almost whimpering sound.

“Did you hear that?” Dot asked, concern in her voice. “It sounds like a dog that’s been hurt.”

“It’s just an owl, Dottie. A boobook I reckon.”

“How do you know that?”

“My dad used to take me outside at night to hear them. They live in the city too, you know.”

“Do they?”

“Sure. You have to really look for them though. They’re only out at night and they’re silent flyers so you won’t hear them coming.”

“Did your dad teach you that too?”

“He did. You can usually find some out by the pier at St. Kilda. I’ll show you some time.”

“I’d like that.”

He very much wanted to kiss her then but felt too shy. He licked his lips, looking down at his feet and shuffling them awkwardly in the grass.

“It’s almost musical, isn’t it,” she said.

“What is?”

“The night sounds. The frogs and the bugs and all. It’s almost like a song.”

“Yeah? I guess it is,” he agreed, trying to hear what she heard. “Would you like to dance, Mrs. Collins?”

“I’d love to, Mr. Collins.”

And that was it. Their wedding dance. Barefoot, in the grass, with music provided by the inhabits of the night, and the most wonderful woman on earth between his arms. 

And it was perfect.

“You know, Dottie,” he said. “I think this might just be my favorite song.”

She pressed close to him, resting her head against his chest.

Mine too, Hugh,” she said. “Mine too.”

**Present day**

____________________

Another scream tore through the house. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a fresh cup of tea being placed on the table by his side. Each time he let one grow cold a fresh one appeared.

“A bit like Sisyphus, that one,” said a smooth, deep voice.

“Who?” Hugh asked, absently. He’d nearly forgotten anyone else was there.

“Mr. Butler.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” Jack said.

There was another scream and Hugh’s entire body clenched.

“She’s going to be fine, Collins,” Jack said, clasping a reassuring hand onto Hugh’s shoulder.

“It’s been hours,” Hugh said desperately. “I don’t know how much more I can take!”

“You?” Said another voice, this one lighter and clearly amused. “I imagine it’s rather worse for her.”

He lifted his head just in time to see the inspector give Miss Fisher an admonishing look. One that seemed to suggest she go easy on the poor sod before them.

She came to stand at Hugh’s other side, her hand resting gently on his hair, almost patting him.

“I’ll go see how it how it progresses, shall I?” She said. Then she disappeared down the hall.

Hugh sat up straight and turned to his friend and mentor.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if anything goes wrong.”

“Nothing will go wrong. She’s in the best of hands,” Jack said.

“She should be in hospital but no, not Dottie. The woman is too stubborn for her own good.”

“If Dr. MacMillan thought a hospital necessary she’d have insisted. And the mid-wife has an excellent reputation. Miss Fisher saw to that.”

“But all the screaming! That can’t be normal?”

“I’m told it is,” Jack said, his shoulders rising and falling with a shrug.

Just then there was another cry. Prolonged this time and blood curdling. Even the inspector shuddered. After that came the silence. A long period of silence, and Hugh couldn’t decide which was the worse.

He stood, ready to march down that hallway and force his way through the door. Jack stood too, placing his hands on Hugh’s shoulders, stopping him in his tracks.

“No. She said she doesn’t want you there. She doesn’t want you to see her like this. They’ll come for you when she’s ready.”

Hugh plopped back down in his seat, ran his hands through his hair.

“How does anyone get through this? And why on earth would you ever do it again?” He asked.

The inspector had no answer. That wasn’t reassuring.

After what felt like an eternity but was more likely less than ten minutes, Miss Fisher returned. She wore a broad smile on her face.

“She’s ready for you, Hugh,” she said. “They both are.”

Hugh barely registered the walk down the hall. The door to the bedroom was open and he could hear voices. Not urgent or anguished voices but calm and happy. He stepped over the threshold and stopped in his tracks. 

He could see the evidence of her labors immediately—the sweat-soaked hairline and ruddy cheeks—but she glowed with an almost otherworldly happiness. He stared at her intently, trying to assess her condition, make sure she truly was all right.

She patted her hair self-consciously and he could hear her voice in his head. _I look a mess,_ it said. 

“No. You don’t,” he whispered under his breath.

Only then did he notice the other evidence of her labors—the small bundle wriggling in her lap.

“Well, Hugh Collins,” Dot said sharply, her voice surprisingly strong, “are you just going to stand there or will you come and meet your daughter?”

“My daughter,” he said blankly. 

His feet moved forward of their own accord until he stood at her side. The bundle shifted as Dot turned the infant, giving Hugh his first good look at his child’s face.

“Ariadne,” Dot said down to the bundle, “meet your father.”

It was too much name for her, but they didn’t know that at the time. Later, she would be only Ari, which suited her sprite-like personality better. But on that day she was their Ariadne, _one_ _most holy._

“What do you think, Dad?” Dot asked, expectantly.

Hugh blinked at the title, then looked closely at his daughter. He thought she had his chin. But, she had her mother’s eyes. 

He looked up into the originals, shining at him, healthy and whole and beautiful.

“I think she’s perfect,” he said. “Absolutely perfect.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Perfect by Ed Sheeran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDDMYw_IZnE)
> 
> I found a love for me  
> Darling just dive right in  
> And follow my lead  
> Well I found a girl beautiful and sweet   
> I never knew you were the someone waiting for me  
> 'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love  
> Not knowing what it was  
> I will not give you up this time  
> But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own  
> And in your eyes you're holding mine  
> Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms  
> Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song  
> When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath  
> But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight  
> Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know  
> She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home  
> I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets  
> To carry love, to carry children of our own  
> We are still kids, but we're so in love  
> Fighting against all odds  
> I know we'll be alright this time  
> Darling, just hold my hand  
> Be my girl, I'll be your man  
> I see my future in your eyes  
> Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms  
> Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song  
> When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful  
> I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight  
> Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms  
> Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song  
> I have faith in what I see  
> Now I know I have met an angel in person  
> And she looks perfect  
> I don't deserve this  
> You look perfect tonight


End file.
